when I am weak
by Smidgie
Summary: Theodora wants to kill Oz. Luckily, he has one more trick up his sleeve... Naughty, but not too naughty.


Quick little bit of Theodora/Oz naughtiness I knocked together after watching the movie. I have a thing for doomed romances. Warnings for exhibitionism, voyeurism, and self love. Title from Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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_**when I am weak**_

She finds him near the place where they had met, of all things. Of all places. The sun is low in the sky but the day lingered yet, and it was still warm on her skin, so long of late in shadow. He half turned when he heard her approach, the smile dying on his lips, and she would be relishing the shadow of fear on his face were he not completely nude.

"Theodora," he greets her, amiably enough. He is waist deep in a pool of clear water, the fairies for once absent, and a small brick of soap and a length of towel beside him. "You're well, I presume?"

"Do you lack for baths in the Emerald City, Wizard?" she inquires instead, acid in her tone and drying out her lips. She wets them with her tongue, her eyes on his face, that terrible, hateful - _oh so lovely _- face.

"Hardly," he replies, returning to the task at hand, scooping clear water over his hair and shaking his head like a dog. It's a little longer, she notes, but not so much; he's had it cut since she's seen him last. "Care for a dip?"

She shudders at the very thought, but whether it be the water itself or horror of what she might let herself do if she were so close to him, she couldn't say. Drag her nails down his chest, follow that tempting line of hair down from his midsection to whatever heaven or hell below -

"I've come to kill you," she says instead, and he remains silent, motionless but to shift in the pool, the water now up to his knees instead of his hips. And curses, curses, a thousand on him to the end of time, isn't he aware he's bare to the skin and she's come to end him once and for all? "Wizard, are you listening? I'm going to kill you."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he assures her, half turning so she sees him in profile. "Murder away, dear Theodora, murder away. You must do whatever it is that you feel you must do, of course. But a favour before, if you don't mind?"

Of course she minds, and she maintains her stony silence before her curiosity gets the better of her and: "What?" she snaps ungraciously, and something in her dies a little at the splendid grin he gives in reply, his hand almost lazily dropping to his hip.

"Why, let me finish my bath, of course," and she hadn't known til then that wickedness could come from good as well as terrible. And she couldn't tear her eyes away from his hands.

He'd taught her to dance with them, pulled her tight against him with them, so tight she could feel every inch of his body against hers. Theodora was captivated by those big, capable, always moving hands, his busy fingers as he'd slipped one hand into her shirt, teasing her breast as he kissed her. She'd wanted a little to melt but she hadn't, and they'd fallen asleep together under the endless sky, her lips deflowered but the rest of her intact.

He is touching himself with the sure, smooth touch of someone who had done such a thing many times before - of course he has, she corrects herself snappishly, he is a man after all and they are driven by their lusts. She cannot look away but she fills her mind with Evanora's voice, the only way to cool the fire in her head and, well, _other places_.

Be strong, sister, she hears in her mind, and follows on from where her sister left off. Look at him, taking his pleasure in front of her without a care in the world. Didn't he have any idea of how to behave? And her here to kill him! Disgusting, foul creature, she wants to gather her flames in her hands and scorch him out of existence, she wants to strike lightning upon him and fry him alive, she wants -

To drop to her knees before him and finish the job herself.

"Still there, Theodora?" he asks languidly, snapping her from the hurricane inside her head. His eyes are closed, she saw, and his hand was moving faster now, and she wants to -

_Kill him rip the flesh from his bone and fuck him yes shove him down on the ground and ride her pleasure out of his flesh until neither could move it would be so easy it would - _

But something holds her back; memories, perhaps, of their shared past, shame and fury and wrath combining to make a power stronger than the line of his brow wrinkling and smoothing flat again, the tiny motions of his hips as he gives himself what she never could.

"I'm here," she growls, and he hums in approval. "Are you thinking of your golden maiden?" she inquires waspishly, and a thin smile flickers over his lips, as he cracks his eyes open a tad to look at her.

"Not at all," he replies, voice low and throaty, tempered with the sound of his pleasure. "Another. A girl in red, skin sweeter than the bloom of a rose when I kissed down her lovely throat and oh, the noises she made - ah!" The gasp was deep in his throat, the lines of his familiar yet unknown body tensing and Theodora looks away, feeling as though she is intruding on something deeply personal. It is the first burst of shame she has felt since her change, since Oz came, since the world turned on its head.

She's slick between her legs and gods, how she hates it. She stands in stunned silence as he cleans himself off, lifts himself from the water, wraps the towel around his hips.

It is only when he is pulling on his trousers that she manages speech.

"You thought of me… as I was then… to bring you to your…" She cannot say it. She _will not_ say it.

"No, Theodora," and there's the devil in his grin again. "I thought of you as you are now."

She's strong, oh yes she is, but some things cannot be borne.

"Running away?" he calls after her, and she swings around, convinced he is mocking her. But the smile is gone from his lips, from his eyes.

"I'll kill you someday," she grinds out through a throat lined with dust. And there's his smile, but there's no joy in it.

"I have no doubt of it," he replies, and long after he's begun the walk back to the Emerald City she remains lingering by the pool, dipping in a hand once or twice, if only to feel embraced even a little by that which had embraced him.

It was well worth the pain, after all.


End file.
